Memories of Betrayal
by yoshmaster5
Summary: On his last day, the Emperor of Grandbell remembers how he got to his position. Betrayals... Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu Oneshot. Obvious spoilers for the game.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights, characters, and story for Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu. Intelligent Systems and Nintendo own everything about this game.

**Memories of Betrayal**

The sun shone upon the Grandbellian shore, illuminating the oceans separating the countries of Chalphy and Miletos from each other. Along the northern coast, an older man with long, red-gray hair stood watching the waves shine as they rolled in. A melancholy sigh escaped that man's lips as he turned towards Chalphy castle proper. His red and gold sage robes flowed around him, eclipsing his worn-down body, including a decorated tome that radiated the heat of an infernal hellfire. As he walked, memories began to flood through his mind. The path taken to claim his title of 'Emperor,' the curse that flowed through his veins, and how his family formed until the same curse tore them apart. How that same curse changed everything in his life... changed his title to a laughingstock, changed his child, and changed his perceived destiny.

The familiar sound of crunching sand faded as the man reached the grass plains of Chalphy; the land he took through betrayal. Funny... how everything he obtained, except the tome of Fala Flame in his robes, came from a betrayal of some kind. Even though he had not known at the time, everything he obtained was through betrayal. Now... retribution was coming.

He heard of Celice, of course. He had known for twenty years, since the child was born. Did he realize the implications? Of course not... Sigurd was deployed away from his schemes in Agustria, and the man wrote him off as an afterthought. The man changed that label quickly, after he successfully conquered Agustria after King Shagall's aggressive maneuvers, as well as defending the friendly castle of Nodion from the attacks of Heirhein. Even after that Sigurd successfully fought off the Cross Knights under Eltosain, wielder of the Mistoltin and nullified the threat from Shagall and took full control of Agustria, only to push the Orgahill pirates into retreat. Then... the betrayal. Sigurd fled to Silesia, settled a civil war with Prince Levin, wielder of Holsety and prince of Silesia. Then... he came to Barhara, defeating the man's 'allies' in his way. Finally Sigurd reached Barhara while wielding the holy Tyrfing, and there another betrayal. Fala Flame torched the now-helpless Sigurd, turning the ill-fated man into ashes while his army from across Jurgdal was crushed into oblivion.

Or so he thought.

Now, it seemed the Issacian idea of 'Karma' was catching up with him. The betrayals to attain his position all unraveled...

"I have earned this fate..."

"_Who are you?" The man asked, significantly younger. His hair was shoulder-length, not down to the middle of his back. His robes were red and blue, symbolizing the color of the Velthomer Dukedom, along with a color that he considered went well with red. A fire tome was held in his right hand, and already a ball of flame hovered above his hand._

"_That is a comical question from you, Alvis of Velthomer." The man countered. His voice was older, yet it was honeyed and filled with foreboding at the same time. However, his face was not visible—a dark black robe went around his body, while a black hood went over his head. One purple stripe ran down his sides. A shiver ran down Alvis's spine._

"_What makes you say that?" Alvis snapped, the fireball increasing sharply in size, displaying confidence in the man's actions. Yet a feeling in his gut told otherwise. The primeval fear that he lived with every day... the fear of death for something over which he held no control._

"_I suggest you dispel your Fire spell, descendant of Fala. There are orders to reveal your secret if I fail to return." The man slyly said, a low chuckle escaping from the hood. He took a step towards Alvis. "I deliberately left out your more honorable ancestor..."_

"_FIRE!" The spell shot towards the man, only to crash against a black wall. The shape of a massive black skull formed behind the dark sage._

"_I have no choice then... descendant of Loptous." The man stated, walking closer to Alvis._

"_How... how do you know?!" Alvis backed up, panic obvious in his voice and face. His red eyes blazed in fear._

"_We knew of your father, your ancestors... and now you. Feel honored Alvis, you carry the blessing of the Gods!" A sinister yet revering tone came from the man's voice, while his arms spread out to his sides. "And now, we can help you..."_

_Alvis stepped back again, now visibly shaking. The Lopt Sect was feared—for centuries, they governed Jurgdal under a tyrannical rule, killing all those who opposed and committing child sacrifices. As a result, when the Twelve Crusaders overthrew the sect, all those with the Lopt blood in their veins, descendants of the Emperor Galle line, were immediately burned at the stake after their heritage was revealed. "If I don't accept your offer?" His voice was hushed, intense horror at the next answer._

"_Your blood is revealed... and you will die." The man said, his own voice quiet to emphasize the implications of Alvis's next actions._

_Alvis was silent. "What is your name?" He asked, but his eyes were closed and arms at his sides. He lost... to live._

_The dark sage stepped forward while pulling his hood back to reveal his face—the twisted face of an old man, with eyes that gleamed a malicious intent. "Manfroy, Archbishop of the Lopt Sect."_

"Betrayals... committed by me and by _him_..." Alvis muttered, walking slowly across the grass. Across the ocean, he knew that Celice was planning the assault on Chalphy—to reclaim the land Alvis stole, and to avenge his father. "And they let me believe the wrong fact... that my father was the one who carried the cursed blood... not my mother."

"_What do you want Alvis? Whatever your desire is, we can grant it." Manfroy stated, meeting Alvis in a dark hallway of Velthomer castle._

"_First I must know this, Manfroy: does my brother Azel carry my blood?"_

"_The Lopt blood is different from the crusaders. It passes on only to the eldest child, which you are. Azel does not carry the blood of my God." Manfroy stated, his tone a matter-of-fact._

"_Good..."_

"_Now Alvis, what is your wish?"_

_Alvis closed his eyes. A long time, he had pondered this. What was his true desire? To simply live as the heir of Fala? Live with his lover, Ida, and raise their child? No... none of these. He arrived at only one conclusion, risky though it might be: HE would be Emperor of Grandbell, the largest country on the continent. "You already know it..."_

"_Correct. We can make you Emperor."_

"_But I don't carry the blood of Narga, which is required."_

"_We know of someone who does..." Manfroy trailed off, a tone of revulsion in his voice. Narga was the archenemy of Loputousu, so it was natural the Archbishop would loathe Narga and all his descendants as well._

_Alvis felt a thrill rush through his body. This possibility, this chance... could be his. "Who?"_

"_A maiden by the name of Diadora. We cannot access her now, but if you can make your first moves to establish your power... we can attain her for you."_

"_Do you require collateral?"_

"_No, that is not it Sage of Fala..." Manfroy only used this phrase when he was aiming at something important. "We require a favor instead. When you attain power, you must not persecute us."_

"_That is obvious." Alvis responded. "Do you think that I would so something so foolish?"_

"_Correct... now... I will leave you to your own devices. We can only help in your final step."_

_'We can grant your desire.' Ha. They would only help in the final step... but that was better than nothing. And nothing mean anonymity. "Very well. Now, vanish before I am found out."_

"_As you wish..." Manfroy muttered, and vanished in a seal of runes._

"Even the properties of the bloodlines, which I should know... I allowed myself to be decieved..."

Everything came from then. Alvis found his tools—two arrogant and power-hungry dukes: Reptor and Langobolt, dukes of Dozel and Freege and descendants of Neir and Tordo. They were blinded by power, and therefore easy to manipulate. The current King of Grandbell was ailing, and his hopes rested on his sun, Kurt. Alvis had Reptor and Langobolt assassinate Kurt, and decided the perfect scapegoat was Sigurd's father, Byron. Everyone bought the ploy... except for Sigurd and the Duke-bishop of Edda, Claude. As such, Alvis sent his pawns after the only remaining threat. In the time these events took place... Alvis distanced himself from his lover and his son, Cyas. Cyas was hidden from public and private circles, allowing only the parents and child to know of his ancestry. Ida yearned to win back her lord's love, yet Alvis kept his pattern up... all in the hopes of supreme power. And then... _she_ appeared. After the 'tragic' death of Kurt, King Azmur had grown fond of the fire sage, and Alvis began to live in Barhara castle. One day... a silver-haired maiden appeared outside the castle. She could remember only her name... Diadora. Alvis remembered instantly, but the fact that Manfroy had suggested to him vanished from his mind. Diadora carried a grace of the best ladies, and her looks... brilliant. Diadora entranced him immediately, and his desire for her to be his wife was immediate. Manfroy's mention that _she_ should be his wife... irrelevant.

Alvis did remember that the wife of Sigurd was named Diadora... no matter. Many people could be named that. Besides, Sigurd could not have caught a women as brilliant as Diadora, especially because she was the direct descendant of Narga himself. They were wed quickly. While children took a while, they were happy. Until... that day.

"_You must have children quickly."_

_Alvis laughed. "You think I'm not trying?"_

"_Perhaps she will be revealed..."_

"_No. We. Are. In. Love." Alvis stated, sharply responding to Manfroy's threat._

"_You never realized? Why she has no memory?"_

"_Shut up!" Alvis threw his cloak back, standing tall, trying to tower over the Lopt bishop. "You know nothing!"_

_Manfroy laughed. "Wrong... we know everything. Show her to Sigurd. Taunt him with what he lost... and what _you_ gained..."_

_Alvis stepped back in shock. _His_ Diadora... the wife of another? No, impossible... but if it was true, Sigurd must die. After all... Sigurd would die anyway. Why not torment the man who came close to the truth? Ida, ever faithful, already sent word of his victory over Reptor, and his request for an immediate presence. Manfroy warped away, leaving Alvis to his deliberations._

"_Sigurd wishes for my presence... he shall have it, under full honors. A full honor guard of the Roten Ritter will welcome them... until I give the signal. And then..." Alvis smiled evilly. "I will have my victory."_

Chalphy loomed above the weary Emperor. The gates, now familiar, seemed strange today. Everything did, as Alvis knew his fate. That which was destined... that which he ultimately deserved. "He wanted his wife back... that was his only reason for traveling. And I saw... I knew at that moment. But there was no turning back."

"_Diadora, Diadora... please answer me!!" Sigurd pleaded, as he was held back by two generals of Alvis's army. The Tyrfing lay abandoned by Sigurd's horse, when he rushed to hold his wife once more._

"_I... sir, I do not know you... but you are so familiar..." Diadora said, in shock by the scene in front of her._

"_Celice! Remember our child! Your baby!!!" Sigurd was actually pushing the generals away, until they finally grasped his legs, causing the desperate man to fall over. Even then, he pushed himself up, watching Diadora with a look of helplessness and longing... for his soulmate._

"_Celice... a beautiful name..." Diadora murmured, standing next to Alvis and her retainer._

"_Take her away, this... _deranged_ man is upsetting her..." Alvis said aloud, enough for all to hear. Behind the lord knight in front of Alvis, the formerly victorious army watched in shock._

"_DIADORA!!!" Sigurd screamed, crying in heartbreak. As she was pulled away, the gorgeous silver-haired woman turned to watch the man, a look as if begging to understand came over her features. "Please..." As Diadora was taken into Barhara castle, Sigurd broke down fully._

"_Pitiful human..." Alvis whispered. He walked over to Sigurd, and leaned down next to the broken man. "I have your wife... I have power... and you will die." Sigurd showed no reaction, only shaking as sobs rocked his body. Alvis turned around, walking a distance away until a flaming aura erupted around the sage. He turned back to Sigurd as his two generals stepped away from the sobbing man. "Die. Fala flame."_

"The worst betrayal... and from me... my last." Alvis stayed still at the gates of Chalphy. A few thoughts fluttered through his mind, before deciding on one course of action. "Until now. Yes... that is the only option."

"_Diadora..." Alvis murmured, holding his wife in his arms._

"_Alvis-sama..." She whispered back, resting her head against his shoulders. The sound of a girl yelling caught their attention. "Sorry... I guess Yurius is teasing his sister..." Diadora giggled._

"_He has a naughty streak in him, but he'd never harm his dear sister." Alvis said, stroking back the silver hair from his wife's eyes. "You're better at this than I am..."_

"_I know. I'll be back in a little while." Diadora stood on her tiptoes, and kissed Alvis on the cheek before turning to attend to their twins._

_Yurius and Yuria. One looked like Alvis, one almost a copy of their mother. Yurius showed a proficiency with fire magic, while Yuria wielded light magic like her mother. Only one thing bothered Alvis... Yurius did not master the Fire tomes as Cyas had... or Alvis himself. Was it that the presence of Fala was passed on already? Possibly... Alvis could not think of any other explanation._

_Time passed... Diadora must have been talked into playing with their kids. Even at the age of thirteen, the two still loved to play with their mother. Although, playing tended to be showing them how to perform tricks with light or fire magic._

_Two hours... Alvis had been caught up with paperwork, but noticed something was wrong. He went to the castle garden... to find a site of horror. Diadora lay on the ground, her skin glowing black. "DIADORA!" He ran to her, kneeling on the ground next to her. No pulse... no movement... the tome of Narga missing from his wife's possessions. No spell he knew of could do this, and it must have been a spell. No light, wind, fire, or thunder magic could cause this kind of effect... only..._

_Alvis stood up. Anger show in his every move. "MANFROY!!!" The bishop stepped out from behind a pillar nearby._

"_What is it, Emperor?" A mocking tone was in his voice._

_Alvis turned, his eyes glowing with rage. "My wife... what did you do?!" He screamed, only able to keep himself from using Fala Flame to incinerate the garden with the knowledge that he too would die._

"_What did _I_ do? I did nothing..." Manfroy stated, a devilish smile on his face. "I would suggest finding your son."_

_A dark pit formed in Alvis's chest. Yurius showed no mastery in any magic... but... "No..."_

"_I failed to inform you that we had been training Yurius as well... he took a great affinity to the Dark line of magic." Manfroy stated, elation in his eyes._

_Alvis ran. His son's room... the next conscious second, he was there. An open door. Inside, the red-haired prince sat, reading something that Alvis could not see. A black aura glowed from the boy... his robes had changed from the gold of an imperial prince to dark black, with tinges of red. This couldn't be happening..._

"_Yurius..."_

"_Oh?" The boy turned his head, the formerly joyful red eyes now showing only malice and vehemence. "Ah... Father." Yurius had never referred to Alvis as 'Father.' Always, along with Yuria, it was 'Daddy' or 'Dad.'_

"_Your..."_

"_What, my mother?" Yurius spoke the last word with such revulsion that Alvis stepped back in fear. "Narga is dead." Narga. Diadora's ancestor... no... Yurius stood, and brought whatever he was reading with him. "Finally... freedom." Yurius turned, and Alvis saw what he was reading—a pitch black tome... with designs on the cover that seemed to emit waves of black. Behind Yurius... the shape of a black dragon formed._

Alvis finally found him. "Palmark."

The bishop looked up, stunned. "Yes, my liege?"

"I need you to do something for me..." Alvis pulled something from his robes. "These are the treasury keys, along with the prison ones. This is my last order. Go to the treasury and withdrawn the Tyrfing." Palmark's eyes widened. "After that, release the children held hostage and lead them away. As far as possible."

"My lord... what are you saying?" Palmark spoke in a horrified tone, astonished at the Emperor's orders.

"Betrayals... both mine and against me, will be corrected." Alvis muttered. "The sword... give it to its rightful owner."

Palmark stayed silent... both men knew the meaning behind the words. "He is not to know how I received it, correct?"

"Tell him you stole it from the vault. He cannot know it was by my orders."

The bishop nodded. "I understand... and may the gods bless you, Lord Alvis." With that, the bishop turned to head towards Chalphy's treasury.

Alvis stood still. "It's too late..."

"_You!!" Alvis drew his ceremonial sword and slashed at Manfroy. The archbishop dodged with ease—Alvis was not a swordsman, but in his state of fury he could easily kill himself if he tried Fala Flame. "YOU DID THIS TO MY SON!!"_

_Manfroy evaded again, laughing at the desperate emperor. "You remind me of someone from years past... a blue-haired man begging for his wife..." He roared in glee as Alvis screamed at him, hacking wildly at the Lopt sage. "Did you never realize? You fool..." The sword came close, and Manfroy suddenly grabbed it by the blade. No blood fell from his hand... and with a sharp twist, the blade shattered. "I did nothing to your son, only bequeathed to him the instrument of his destiny... as the next Emperor Galle." Alvis stood, shaking in rage and desperation. "And the reason..." Manfroy leaned close, whispering into Alvis's ear like a lover would. "Diadora... was your half sister..."_

_Alvis froze. His arms and legs felt like a blizzard spell had hit, and the ice having encased the man fully. His mind could not understand... or he refused to understand. How? What happened, and why?_

"_Cigyun, your mother... fled from your bastard of a father. She carried the Lopt blood. And passed it to your dead wife... you know the properties of the holy blood. Your union... incestuous, blasphemous, and sinful... brought back my God. There was no pure carrier of the Lopt line... so we created one from the perfect circumstance. You... were never our goal. Only a tool... that is now pitiful." Manfroy leaned back, laughing. "You can do nothing now... you value your life more than anything. You will not stop us... and if you try, do you even for a second believe you could defeat an infant wielding the Loptous tome?"_

_Alvis knew. Only Narga could defeat Loptous... and that is why they targeted Diadora when she was alone. And Yuria... dear Yuria... as good as dead._

"_Feel proud, Alvis, that you were of use to us for far longer than we ever thought... you have done more to help us than we ever predicted. We have control over most of the continent thanks to you, and it will turn into an homage for Lord Loputousu to do as he wishes. In the end... even I will become useless in his honor." Manfroy's eyes gleamed in a combination of cruelty and joy. "Emperor Galle... is reborn!"_

Alvis stood in the large throne room, donning his Imperial armor or red and gold. His shield on his left arm... and the tome of Fala Flame pressed against his body. "Yuria... you were alive. But now... you will die. My sins... have tarnished what is the most pure... You are the last hope. I will die by your holy brother's hand, and only upon death reveal the truth." He raised his head. The castle gates were opening. A nostalgic presence... that of a man he assisted when Verdane assaulted Grandbell. A silver sword. The burning hellfire of Fala Flame snuffing out the courage in Baldo's descendants. "The time is now. Palmark succeeded." Alvis felt eerily calm, knowing his death was imminent. "Sigurd... Diadora... Yuria... forgive me. I have one last betrayal to commit... yet this time, it is not for my gain, and I will pay for it with my life." The door opened, and a blue-haired man in regal armor entered the room, wielding a sword that glowed a blue aura.

"Ah, the 'Prince of Light.' Do you believe you can destroy me?" Alvis taunted.

_My last performance. Gods above, grant me the strength to maintain it to the end._

**Author's Note:**

You could get used to me uploading a few one-shot stories. Two of my classes are... well, tedious and you can space out a LOT... which means that my mind wanders, and will come up with scenarios that I couldn't put into _The Legend of Celice_ because they wouldn't fit in the story... or it comes up with epic fights that are FAR later than I am at in the fanfic. That said... I don't know what my mind will come up with next, but expect it to be Fire Emblem related.

Inspiration for this story? Well, the tragic figure of Alvis. Not at heart an evil man, but one with a fear of death, who allowed himself to be manipulated by that fear. He proves to be a good-hearted man in the end, and I thought that he would feel repentance at the end of his days. Plus, he suffers as much as his victims... and tragic figures are fun.

BTW, this did not hamper the fic—I wrote this in one day. ;-)


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